We Burn It Down
by Dalla
Summary: Riddick crashes, finds graves and someone who can answer the question "Exactly how does one get a Merc out of a grain silo?". Starts, dark and smutty, gets darker and smuttier, don't read it if blood & space-psychos getting freaky gives you a squicking.


The first time it happened he hadn't planned it.

He hadn't gone through his usual routine, he hadn't picked her out, stalked her through the streets, prowled after her until she was alone and used what he liked to think of as natural bad boy charm to intimidate and thrill. She'd try to get away, but not really, and she always came, whether she wanted to or not. Shattered self esteem and reluctant arousal. His second favourite smell.

Sometimes she would be the one to make the move, they were always the skinny, barely old enough daughters of people that were scared of him. They were always so insistent, like fucking would somehow cage the animal for a while. He loved their desperation, it made them smell brighter, like they weren't tragic little girls in make-up borrowed from one of the slam whores. There was a tiny part of him that knew he shouldn't be getting off on their fear, but he had been ignoring it for thirty years. He knew what he liked and he wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd always rather be licking cum and blood off his fingers than "making love". Not that he'd know how, to his knowledge he'd never made love and he wasn't about to start.

The first time it'd been her fingers, cool and damp from the water she'd just washed them in, that burned on the back of his neck and he'd lost it. He hadn't even meant for it to happen.

He'd been on this crappy farming moon for over a week, his stolen and therefore damaged hopper had lost so much power he couldn't escape the moon's gravity and ended up bailing out over a giant grain field. His craft a twisted mess and his ass in the middle of nowhere. He'd walked for three days, dodging the farming bots and security drones until he saw a group of buildings. A massive grain silo, the kind a ship comes and winches up full, tips out and sets back down empty. Minimum contact, good. He lurked round the scatter of barns and outhouses watching the main farmhouse. No movement. He waited until nightfall, and when no lights came on he just went right on in the front door. He did a quick sweep, definitely no one home, but the house obviously wasn't abandoned. Maybe the farmers moved around the moon checking their crop. He decided to leave the lights off, he didn't need them anyway.

He'd helped himself to food and wandered out onto the back porch when he saw the graves. Four in total, two freshly dug, side by side. They had little wooden crosses stuck in the top and one was scattered with wilting field flowers. That explained it. Farmer Bob, Mrs Bob and the little Bobs had croaked. but who'd buried them? He tensed when he caught the smell of fresh blood, what had happened here? It was then he saw her, his eyes shining in the dark caught a slight movement in the gloom. She was a sprawled mass on the floor by the steps leading down into the garden. Looked like she'd tried to get back to the house but gave up and just slept where she fell. He slipped closer, her sleep was fevered, her breath shallow and fast like she was running for her life in her dreams. Taut with anticipation he cautiously stretched out his leg and nudged her with his boot, shiv ready in case of deception. Nothing, a slight moan, maybe her eyelids flickered a little but no other movement. He toed her over onto her back, pushed up his goggles and squatted down to take a closer look. She looked young, eighteen, maybe twenty at a push, too thin and delicate to be the kind of pretty he preferred. Hair and skin as white as spilled milk against the dark grass. An albino, he half smiled remembering one he'd killed in prison, he'd idly wondered if his blood was clear like water to make a body so pale. It wasn't.

He hovered his fingers over her face, the tips just making out the feel of fine bone under the skin. Skimmed them down over her pulse hammering in her long white neck. His eyes went where his fingers didn't. He wondered if her eyes were pink or violet. He wondered if all her hair was white.

The smell of blood was stronger now and he could feel his own quicken as he took in the dark sticky patch on her hip. She'd been winged by some kind of pulse rifle, nasty. It wasn't a lethal wound, but those things didn't heal easy, too much cell disruption. Her hands were also bloody, he supposed from trying to staunch the wound on her hip, but that was nearly dried and the blood on her hands was fresher. Don't ask how he knew. He turned over the hand closest to him and dribbled some of the water out of the cup he'd brought from the kitchen over her palm. She twitched and whimpered in her sleep. So, not given up yet, he thought as he peered at the ugly welts on her fingers. Then it struck him, these were from some kind of hard labour, he had got scars like them himself under all the callouses on his hands. The graves, she must have dug them. He cast about him, there it was, a spade lying on the ground nearby, it's handle and shaft darkened rusty red.

So, someone shot her family, made her bury them and then, what? Wings her and leaves? What kind of murderer gives someone time to dig two separate, deep graves when they could have just rolled all three of them into a nearby ditch? What kind of murderer ghosts mama and papa and leaves little girlie with a flesh wound? A wound she could have staunched easy enough to get to a communicator or to send a distress call. Something wasn't right here.

He sat back on his heels and considered his options. He could quite easily leave the girl, go back into the house, finish his dinner and then head out to see if, between the broken down hopper in the barn and the mangled remains of his craft, he couldn't make something fly. He knew enough about mechanics to fix basic problems so there was every chance he could be off this rock in a few days. Of course that plan meant leaving the girl. Something niggled about that. It wasn't the fact that he would be leaving her to slowly bleed to death or die of septicaemia, but the fact that he already rather liked her. He liked a girl who had obviously had the dogged determination to literally work her fingers to the bone for people she loved. He half smiled at the mythical image it conjured up of her watering the scattered field flowers with tears and blood, her hair whipping in the wind. Kinda beautiful. It was also stupid, and he'd still have just rolled them into a nearby ditch, but you had to admire her for her sheer grit.

Plus, he shook his head, he was a sucker for broken, brave little girls.

Making sure she was ok would add twenty four hours to his plans, max. He'd be out of here before anyone ever found out he was in the system. There was a medkit in the kitchen, convinced he'd regret this uncharacteristic kindness, he gathered her up, cradled her head against his shoulder and carried her inside.

The kitchen table was as good an operating table as any, seeing as her trousers were already torn and bloodied he reasoned it would be quickest just to split them up the right leg with his shiv. The medkit was severely depleted, but still held some painkillers and antiseptic gel. Refusing to be distracted by the smooth white flesh of her thigh and belly, he sluiced the wicked rent in her flesh with clean water and then some of the grain alcohol he'd found. Her eyes had flown open and she'd spat blood on her chin in a strangled gurgle as the liquor burned through the wound. Luckily she'd passed right out again, he hadn't relished the idea of having to hold her down. The gun that usually held the soft dissolvable staples that were used to hold together deeper wounds was empty, as was the gas canister that powered it. No refills. He was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. He packed the wound with antiseptic gel and healing aid and squinting close to her pale flesh threaded one of the emergency curved needles. His hands were usually so steady when making the kind of mess he was looking at now, suddenly he wasn't sure how to go about reversing the effect.

When he finally put the needle down his hands were cramping and slick from fresh blood his clumsy stitches had drawn, but the wound was closed. It was up to her whether she made it now as there were no plasma packs in the medkit and he had no way of knowing how much blood she'd lost. Humming he tended the welts and blisters on her hands, amusing himself with how it would look if one of the mercs, forever on his tail, were to look in the window right now. Riddick, the hulking murderer, playing nursemaid to an ethereal girl he'd found in an overgrown garden. At least he'd have the element of surprise, they'd never see him coming for laughing.

Now what did he do with her? He didn't think just leaving her on the table was an option, especially since the night was starting to get cold and she was now only wearing a blood spattered tee and half a pair of trousers. He still wasn't looking at the skin he'd exposed with his knife, but his fingers moved slowly against one another as is remembering it's sticky soft texture at the broken edges. He looked down at his hands as if just becoming aware of what he was doing, grunted and plunged them into the bowl of water he'd used to clean her hands, didn't rub them but instead just watched the stains float off his skin like ink clouding the water. Her stirring whipped his head round, instantly alert despite his dreamlike state seconds ago. She seemed to be coming round a little, her eyes opening to slits against the overhead strip lights. He lent over her,  
"Hey, you awake?"  
A thin scream escaped from her mouth as she shrank back against the wood, raising a hand in a slow uncoordinated swipe at him. He almost laughed, of course, waking up to a huge bald guy in goggles silhouetted against a bright light probably wasn't the most comforting image. He loved that her first instinct was to lash out, but he still grabbed her wrists as she twisted onto her injured side rubbing hard at her face trying to clear her fuzzy vision.  
"Woah! Lie back. You'll break your stitches if you do that and if you do I'm not giving you any more painkillers. Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."  
The irony wasn't lost on him as he considered the amount of times he'd said those words before cheerfully and inventively depriving people of their lives. Obviously he wasn't all that convincing since she struggled harder against him and to his surprise glared up at him with pink tinged grey eyes burning with unmistakable fury.  
"Who the hell are you?" she rasped. Her voice a hoarse whisper, "let go of me, _this instant_!"  
He suspected that the hissed imperative would have made most people rethink their position, every word dripped with outrage as she bared her teeth, thrusting her face up at him. He noticed her eyes were still a little unfocused, her stomach twitched involuntarily as her obviously exhausted muscles struggled to hold her up at the awkward angle and the tightness of her jaw told him she would probably rather bite through her own tongue than let on that she was in pain right now.  
"I said, let me go."  
She was panting now, he almost wanted to stay quiet and see how long she could keep going off sheer force of will, but he'd never been very good at taking orders. He was known for it, you might say. He took both her thin wrists in one hand, careful not to touch her damaged palms and pushed up his goggles. To her credit, she barely flinched, but her glare turned to curiosity for a fraction of a second before returning to it's former fury as he placed his other hand flat between her breasts and gently but firmly pushed her back.  
"And I said, lie back." He growled, still holding her wrists up and away from her. He could see her mind working as she reluctantly complied.

"So." He said, releasing her hands and sitting on a chair so they were almost face to face.  
"What happened?"  
"Water first."  
This time he really did laugh. He couldn't remember a time when someone had been this together when faced with him immediately after regaining consciousness. He brought her a cup and putting his arm round her shoulders he helped her sit up enough to gulp down the liquid. She slumped back against his arm, seemingly tired now.  
"Daddy said there was something wrong with us. He shot my sister, and tried to shoot me, so I shot him."  
"Makes sense."  
She nodded slowly.  
"Then you came and found me I suppose?"  
"Yeah."  
"You should have let me die you know."  
"Yeah?"  
Her eyes met his, he wasn't entirely sure of what he read, something glittered there that he recognised.  
"Yeah."  
"Guess I decided I like you."  
This seemed enough explanation for her as she considered him. He could see the questions she wanted to ask, there wasn't a woman alive who wouldn't be wanting to know who he was, why he was in her house and after sensing the predator in him want to know _just what he'd done to her._ Which made him think about all the things he could have done to her, furtive and unwanted as she lay unconscious. At least he waited for them to wake up, he liked to see their eyes dilate in fear. he wasn't the sleeping girl kind of guy, but she didn't know that. He could see all these thoughts flashing ugly and frightening into her head. But he could also see her fatigue and pain winning the battle against fear and curiosity.

"Can I go to bed now?"  
Her voice came small and low now it was no longer hardened by thirst or anger. She'd obviously decided she wasn't in any direct danger, but she tensed as his hand brushed her bare skin when he made to pick her up again.  
"I can manage."  
"No you can't." He scooped her up, ignoring her cry of protest and dismay as the rest of her trousers fell away to the kitchen floor and the press of her warm thighs against his arms, he started towards the stairs.  
"which one is yours?"  
She motioned to a door at the end of the landing which opened into a largish twin room, he noted the lock was on the outside of the door and made a note to ask about that in the morning. Inside there were two beds, one bed with a quilt embroidered with "Mimmy" the other with "Mina". He quirked his lips at the flowered pillow covers and the frilled curtains, they were girlie girls.  
"So which one are you? Mimmy or Mina?"  
She pointed wordlessly at the "Mina" bed. Once he'd got her settled, he lay down on the bed opposite and flipped out the light. No point in moving, she might need him in the night he reasoned. He glanced over in the dark and saw her mouth form a silent "O" as his eyes glimmered in the faint starlight coming through the window. He also saw her hand slip under her pillow and pull out a small blade which she held ready in the hand furthest away from him, shielding it from him with her body. So she was scared of him, sensible girl, he decided to let her keep her knife for tonight. If he hadn't been so used to the company of criminals he might have asked himself as he fell asleep, why a farmer's daughter kept a knife under her pillow, and had he thought to check under his own head, why her sister did the same.

While she was still sleeping he quietly confiscated the knife. Neither of them mentioned it when she woke. But she watched him with deep suspicion whenever he was near her as if she expected her own weapon to be used against her. After some coaxing she'd let him check her hip which looked to be healing well despite his messy stitches, but she'd insisted she wash and dress herself, he had hoped to enjoy that himself but he relented when she agreed to keep the door to the bathroom open as she bathed while he lurked on the landing. He'd rolled his eyes behind his goggles as she'd insisted he move the big mirror in the bathroom so she could keep an eye on the doorway from the bath. He didn't mind so much, he could easily stand out of sight and still be able to see her steamy reflection, the foggy glass giving her a softer silhouette which appealed. He was already enjoying the contrast in their skin tones as he ran imaginary hands over her pearly body, saw her white hair stark against the golden brown of his belly, her lips coral as she kissed down and down her creamy hands already stroking his hard dark cock.

He'd raised his eyebrows when she'd slowly and deliberately walked out of the room on her own. Pride and her clenched jaw not allowing her to limp. He'd picked her up anyway, she smelled good and he liked how easily he could make her helpless. The blazing look she gave him when he did it wasn't bad either. She'd questioned him briefly, he'd told her the basics. Nothing she didn't need to know, he was Riddick, he'd crashed, he needed parts, thought she might have some, found her bleeding and patched her up. He was surprised she didn't demand more information, especially as she had spent a good minute openly looking him over while he was telling her his story, she even reached out and took one of his big hands in her own, turning it over like she could tell if he was lying from his palm, so thorough was her examination. Unfortunately it wasn't in any of the ways he was used to being stared at by women, she looked at him like she was trying to work out how he was put together, and how she could take him apart again. He'd asked her questions in return, she only answered in short bursts, but he found out she was a twin, her older brother and mother had died a few years previously and that her father had become increasingly religious and as far as Riddick could tell batshit crazy. He'd been convinced his daughters were evil and tried to kill them after disabling their comms unit. She'd shut up after that, he supposed she had the right to.

They developed a kind of comfortable quiet over the few days following his arrival.

There had been that one incident where she's attempted to kill him, but he didn't hold it against her. He'd expected it once she'd got stronger, it's exactly what he'd have done. He'd heard the change in her breathing which instantly woke him. He'd watched her in the dark as she crept out of bed, he'd allowed her to slip one of his shivs out of it's sheath and waited until she'd crawled right on top of him, the knife raised before he stopped her. She'd spent the rest of the night with his arms vice like around her holding the blade, still in her hand, against her own throat. He was certain from the radiating waves of silent fury coming off her that she'd not slept a wink. he on the other hand, had only pleasant dreams. Dreams he was sure she could feel pressing into the small of her back. When he woke he'd pointedly uncurled her fingers from the handle and dropped the shiv to the floor, he loosed his grip on her, but she remained where she was her body rigid. Shrugging he'd draped one arm back round her and went back to sleep. Neither of them mentioned it.

Mostly they spent their time quietly, he'd scavenge what machinery he could and work on her broken down hopper, and she'd watch. Occasionally helping with things that needed small hands and bringing him food. They didn't talk much, but she was easier around him now, she even gently made fun of him sometimes when he was getting frustrated with the machinery. He had to admit, she was growing on him. She'd taken to wearing loose fitting baggy trousers which hung low on her hips so the waistband didn't rub against her stitches, the resulting band of back and stomach which appeared at his eye line whenever she passed him tools as he crouched under the hopper was starting to get distracting. He still slept in her dead sister's bed, and watched her while she slept, his mind deliciously spinning stories where he left bruises all over that white white skin and she sobbed and whined his name like a litany as she wrapped her legs tight round him.

It was on the fourth day it happened. He should have kept an eye on the sky, just because there was no one on his tail when he crashed, didn't mean they weren't looking for him.

It was Wicks. He knew the sound of his fancy dual core ship intimately, he'd spent enough time strapped to it's deck before now. He'd been too busy paying attention to Mina's thin shirt in the cool morning air that they'd touched down before he'd strapped his shivs on. Cursing he raced from the barn where he was working to the farmhouse porch where she was sitting, he had to get her inside. If Wicks knew there was someone else here, the bastard would have no problem with maiming her to make him compliant. Too late, he heard the loud call behind him.  
"Riddick. Time to go asshole."  
He turned round, making sure he was between Mina and Wicks, blocking her from view as much as possible.  
"Wicks, not dead yet?"  
"Evidently."  
"Let's see what we can do about that..."  
He'd launched himself off the porch knowing that the muscle with their guns trained on him probably wouldn't shoot without their master's order, Riddick was worth so much more alive. The fight had been quick and dirty, the muscle had been dispatched relatively easily, but now he was pinned down behind the barn door with Wicks up a narrow seed tower taking pot shots at him with a high powered pulse rifle. Mina had taken the initiative and sidled into the house before anyone noticed her but now he saw her lurking in the shadowed doorway. She slipped out behind Wicks line of sight and slowly made her way round behind the barn to him.  
"What the hell are you doing? Get back inside!"  
He hissed trying not to let his voice carry.  
"No."  
She looked at him levelly and pulled a bag round from where she'd stashed it under the eaves of the building, unzipped it and held out a battered pulse rifle. Before he could ask about it she continued,  
"It's fingerprint enabled so I have to put my thumb here, "  
She pressed her thumb against a pad,  
"You put yours there."  
He did as he was told, the questions "when did you have time to set it to your thumb print when wrestling it off your deranged father?" and "Actually, how DID you shoot your father in self defense if this thing wouldn't even fire for you?" racing to the front of his mind but now was not the time. She was busy putting in the change codes to notice the strange look he was giving her.

The rifle wasn't really much use in the end. Wicks held the advantage, he had the high ground and the sturdy iron of the tower to protect him. Sighing as he ducked down again Riddick checked the power, only enough for about ten more shots, then they were back to square one.  
"We need to get him down from there. You take the rifle and cover me, I'm going up."  
Instead of taking the gun she just cocked her head at him like he was talking nonsense.  
"Why don't we just get him down like we got my brother down?"  
She asked.  
"I... your brother? What?"  
He was completely nonplussed, he really didn't have time for family stories right now, Wicks was getting bolder as he was getting less return fire.  
"What do you mean, 'like you got your brother down'? How did you do it?"  
Her eyes had that oddly familiar glitter to them again as a whisper of a smile quirked the corners of her mouth.  
"Simple, we burned down the tower. You'd be amazed how quick those things go up"  
Flying splinters from another shot at the door they were hiding behind pushed all the disturbing images she was conjuring up out of his mind.  
"Do it."  
Once again she slunk back round the barn, gathering the oil cans from where he'd been working and with Riddick drawing Wick's attention she liberally doused the support struts and, rather cruelly, the base of the access ladder. Matches flared and flames billowed almost transparent in the hot sun and the noise of Wicks's sudden panic made Riddick bare his teeth in an evil grin. Wick's panic became grunts of pain as he spotted the merc trying to get through the flames on the ladder, he watched him weigh the odds, gamble and jump. Straight into a waiting Riddick, his shadow stretching long and black over the terrified man as he loomed out of the sunlight. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Mina, her hair floating about her head in the hot air from the now uncontrollable fire, the red light sending her eyes a murky maroon. it was the first time he'd seen her smile and it was beautiful.

Later, when the merc had woken from his swift, savage trip into unconsciousness, Riddick had spent some time having a quiet talk with him about the person he was working for and how much he was getting paid for him. This quiet talk involved quite a lot of shouting and Wick's head being plunged repeatedly into a trough of water for indeterminate periods. That was until Mina had slipped quietly into the barn behind him. Riddick sensed her as soon as she appeared in the doorway, he could hear her breathing coming slightly faster as his fist connected with Wick's kidneys. As she drew nearer there was no mistaking the scent coming off her, she was getting off on this. Kinky. She stood closer to him than she ever had, looking on with feigned disinterest, her eyes huge as he held Wicks under again.  
"Brung you a present."  
She said in a sing song little girl voice as he pulled Wicks back out spluttering and coughing. In her hand was a pair of pliers, he took them with a wicked smile.

Four graves,  
"We burned the tower..."  
Four graves, daddy obviously figured out what his little girls were, he wondered how mummy had gone as he allowed his eyes to linger on her in for a second. He turned his attention back to the shaking merc in his hands who obviously thought he wouldn't torture him in front of this sweet young girl.  
"Talk some sense into him honey."  
Wheezed Wicks, sputtering a fine mist of water on her,  
"Don't let him hurt me anymore, he's a monster, please darling, please..."  
The smile she gave him seemed to be hardwired directly to Riddick's groin. It was bright and pretty and sparkled with the desolation of insanity.  
"I don't think I can stop him actually."  
She lent down and whispered in Wicks's ear,  
"And why would I want him to?"  
She brought her hand out from behind her back, Riddick hadn't seen what was in it until he caught the eye watering vapour rising when she opened the top of the bottle. Turpentine.  
"Now, forget what he'll do to you, concentrate on me."  
She purred, slowly stroking the bottle up and down in a rhythm that was making it increasingly difficult for Riddick to keep his mind of the business in hand,  
"Tell me who's after Riddick."  
"I can't, I need to look at the orders on my shi..."  
She cut him off with a flick of her wrist and his babbling dissolved into a sharp scream as she sloshed a healthy measure of the turpentine directly onto one of the burns he acquired earlier.  
"Tell me."  
"I can't I don't kn..."  
She cut him off again, this time by pressing her boot hard against the burn, between Wick's groans of pain and the light in Mina's eyes, it was all Riddick could do not to moan aloud. He could feel himself getting hard as he watched her chest heaving, her nipples peaking under the thin fabric of her shirt. Obviously he was not the only one enjoying this. His muscles ached to reach out and touch, to slip his hands up under her shirt and make her squeal and grind back against him while she ground her boot down on the man under her heel.  
"One. More. Time."  
She continued, releasing the pressure from her foot. Wicks squirmed and coughed as she swung in a kick to his ribs for good measure.  
"Riddick, your girlfriend's crazy..."

That was enough for Mina, she simply upended the turpentine on the terrified merc and pulled out a match. She crouched down and cruelly trailed a fingernail down the burnt side of his face,  
"Now your choice is very simple, either tell me what I want to know, or I set you alight. It takes a while for a human to catch without accelerant, but with the amount on you I don't think we'll have a problem. You'll just go up like a great big candle."  
Wicks gibbered and snivelled at the look in her eyes throwing out every name of every bounty levelled on Riddick's head that he could remember. Mina turned and rinsed her bloody hands in the trough, her cool wet fingers were suddenly trailing over Riddick's scalp as he bent over Wicks. Her hand came to rest on the back of his neck, damp and soft and possessive. It said, "This is mine, don't fuck with it."

That was enough for Riddick. In one motion he stood, grabbed the pulse rifle, blew Wicks away and crushed Mina to him his mouth fixed to hers. She met him open mouthed her tongue pushing against his as he pulled her up into his arms. She wrapped her legs round his hips as he lifted her onto the edge of the workbench he'd been using to pummel Wicks against, and she ground against him, her hands slipping in the blood spatter as he pushed her down. He made short work of her shirt, dispensing with buttons and simply yanking it open so they scattered over the floor, all the could think about was getting to her skin and breathing her in. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled her smoke, turpentine, blood, metal and sex. He growled, nothing mattered now apart from sinking into this beautiful little thing and fucking and fucking and fucking... He sucked and nipped at her throat letting his hands wander over her body, only breaking away to let her pull his shirt over his head. Her hands on his back were sticky with Wicks blood as she raked her nails lightly over his skin her fingers tracing the hard muscle down to his hips and back to raise the hairs on the nape of his neck.

He pushed her back, his lips trailing down into the valley between her breasts, he sucked at a nipple and bucked hard against her when her soft sighs became a full blooded moan and her nails dug in as he bit down on her soft flesh. He bit down again, harder this time and was rewarded by her pulling him up for a bruising kiss, her own teeth drawing blood from his lower lip the sharp spike of pain making him groan into her mouth. Her hands slipped in between them and cupped him through his jeans, squeezing and stroking his now aching erection, her fingers started work on his fly as she slid down his body to her knees. He watched, his mouth slack as she nuzzled her face against him, running her lips down over the fine trail of hair leading from his navel to his crotch where she teased his length through the fabric.  
"Mina..."  
He ground out as she freed him from his jeans and wrapped her hand around his hard cock the sudden skin to skin contact making his body taut as he fought for control. She looked so small and fragile and he was going to break her if she didn't stop looking up at him like a capricious angel amongst the blood and bodies.  
"Mina...you have no idea what you're getting yourself into"  
His knuckles were white as she slowly stroked him smoothing the precum leaking over the head of his cock with her thumb making him flinch.  
"Do you?"  
She whispered and sucked him hard into her mouth.

It was too much, he watched as she hollowed her cheeks and took as much of him in as she could, and then she swallowed against the head of his cock pushing down her throat. His knees nearly buckled, he fisted his hands in her hair and forced her down further until she gagged, the sensation blinding his senses to anything but the feel of her mouth. He bucked into her, fucking her mouth until her hands scrabbled at his and she struggled to breathe. Relenting he dragged her head away, the long soft scrape of her teeth along the shaft starting a low rumble in his chest as he looked down into her teary eyes, took in the saliva drooling onto her breasts, saw her feral smile and felt his cock twitch.

His hands still knotted in her hair he pulled her to her feet and shoved her back onto the workbench. He pushed her trousers down as she toed off her boots to get rid of them altogether, his fingers were diving into her wet folds before she could get the first one off. She screamed and arched against him as he thrust two thick fingers into her unprepared, her slick, tight heat fighting against him. She was so small under him, so tight round his fingers, he was going to _break_ her and she'd fucking love every second. He pressed the rough pad of his thumb against her clit and the desperate stream of obscenities from her lips only encouraged him to do it again, harder. This time closing a hand round her throat, tightening just enough to feel her pulse hammer against his fingers. His mouth was everywhere, crushing kisses against her lips leaving a bloody trail over her breasts as his lip split open again while his fingers brutally dragged waves of pleasure out of her body. He could feel her getting close as his fingers worked inside her he licked and bit his way over her belly until his lips and tongue were ghosting over that sensitive bundle of nerves, he smirked up at her propped up on her elbows staring at him wide eyed and bit down.  
"no, no, no, Riddick, Riddick, Riddick, oh God, Riddick!"  
Her rising intonation ended in a wordless shriek as he tipped her over the edge, and without waiting he lifted her hips and slammed into her.

This was the first time he sunk into her, he hadn't even meant it to happen and she was so hot, so alive, and so unafraid. He tried to keep an even rhythm, pulling almost the whole way out to thrust in to the hilt again but between her muscles spasming from her orgasm and trying to adjust to his thick length and the noise she was making, he was losing himself to her. He was holding her too tightly, his hand was on her throat again, the other bruising into her hip. She was bucking against him, meeting every thrust with one of hers but he could feel the gash opening back up, his fingers slipping into the half healed wound as the stitches popped under his grip, fresh, hot blood welling up under his nails. It was her hand on his, pushing his fingers further in to her flesh in the same rhythm as his hips,that overwhelmed him. He squeezed tighter, buried his head in her shoulder and roared as she slid her hand over his slicked with her own blood.

Nothing mattered but fucking and fucking and fucking and fucking... 


End file.
